Thought I would celebrate Christmas with a little poem. I hope you all like it. Comments would be appreciated. I can take it.
You should look up
look at it wave
stand stout
this is why
the flag is flying for all
it flies for you
no double talk here
either you believe or you don’t
the flag is flying for all
it flies even if your sleeping
and when your awake
the flag flies whether you been bad or good
but lets be good for all’s sake
Oh lets look out
this is not the time to cry
no whining here
this is why
the flag is flying for all
the flag is flying for all
I am the flag of the United States of America.
My name is Old Glory.
I fly atop the world’s tallest buildings.
I stand watch in America’s halls of justice.
I fly majestically over institutions of learning.
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up and see me.
I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.
I stand for freedom.
I am confident.
I am arrogant.
I am proud.
When I am flown with my fellow banners,
My head is a little higher,
My colors a little truer.
I bow to no one!
I am recognized all over the world.
I am worshipped – I am saluted.
I am loved – I am revered.
I am respected – and I am feared.
I have fought in every battle
of every war
for more then 200 years.
I was flown at Valley Forge,
Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appamatox.
I was there at San Juan Hill,
the trenches of France,
in the Argonne Forest,
Anzio, Rome and the beaches of Normandy.
Guam, Okinawa, Korea and
KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me.
I was there
I led my troops, I was dirty, battle worn and tired,
But my soldiers cheered me and I was proud.
I have been burned,
torn and trampled on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
It does not hurt for I am invincible.
I have been soiled upon, burned, torn and
trampled in the streets of my country.
And when it’s done by those
Whom I’ve served in battle – it hurts.
But I shall overcome – for I am strong.
I have slipped the bonds of Earth
and stood watch over the uncharted
frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness to all of America’s finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.
When I am torn into strips and used as bandages
for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent
at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,
I am proud.
Please forward my message to all who still love
and respect me that I may fly proudly
for another two hundred years.
